


Secrets

by PKlovesDW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance, Veela, creature - Freeform, mate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKlovesDW/pseuds/PKlovesDW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something odd is happening. On a specific day. Especially when you suddenly sprout wings when you haven't before. Creature fic! Veela!Harry. HP/DM. Set in 'eighth' year. By DW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Change

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the: Twenty Chapters in One Year; The Longest Competition Ever!

' _Something's definitely wrong,'_ thought Harry, while he staved off his nausea. He had been feeling ill all day, and it steadily got worse.  _'What a great day for your birthday,'_   he thought edgily, while he squirmed on his bed. The dark haired teen turned to look at the clock and huffed. It was eleven o'clock PM. In an hour he would be turning eighteen.

He was excited, of course. But his day started out rough. He had woken up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning, unable to fall back asleep. At first he had just shoved the thing off on being at Grimmauld Place. But how could it be that he never had any trouble with the previous nights? After a tiresome night, he had gotten out of bed at eight AM. That's when the shaking started. It was damned annoying, because he had spilled his tea right on his trousers, and he now had a bright red spot on his right leg. The cold sweat started at four PM, and he really thought he might be getting ill around that time. Even the shower he took next did nothing to banish it. Harry just kept on shivering, and three hours later a pounding headache tried to make his brain dance out of his skull.

Dinner was not an option, and instead he tried to sleep the day off. If he was indeed getting ill, he might as well get some rest.

The first two hours he thought his symptoms might be receding, and he nearly dozed off into a light slumber. But he couldn't be more wrong. Besides the headache, dizziness took its residence right behind his eyes. He'd moaned and curled up in a tight ball, while trying not to claw his eyes out in frustration. This was starting to be his worst day ever, except for the second of May, of course. Nothing could beat the horrid day where he stood face to face with Voldemort. He shivered, and wasn't entirely sure if it was because he didn't feel alright.

And now, two hours later, he was a sweating, dizzy mess. He didn't know when the nausea started, just that it did. It all started to become a hazy blur to him, and he wanted to surrender to the sweet bliss of oblivion. But no such thing was granted to him. So he just grit his teeth, and tried not to lose his mind. When he looked at his clock again, which was becoming steadily blurrier, he noticed that it was half past eleven. Half an hour to go until midnight. His shoulders started to itch, and he scratched, but got no relief. Harry even turned around and wriggled around, so the sheets were causing friction, but even that didn't help, so he rolled back on his stomach and braved the storm. The nausea pressed down on him like an icy blanket, and it took all of his willpower to keep his breakfast and lunch inside, glad he decided not to eat dinner. He shivered and curled back in himself again, trying to keep warm, even though it was Summer and hot air was pressing in all over the place.

When it all became too much, he rolled over and emptied his stomach on the floor of his bedroom. He grimaced when all he could do was dry-heave after a while. He felt miserable, and now his shoulders started to tingle, too. As if his day couldn't get worse. Just as he faced the clock again, an earth shattering scream filled the room. It only took him a few seconds to realise that he was the one who was screaming his lungs out. A cutting sensation ran through his body, and in a daze he realised that it focused on his shoulders. Fire crept along his shoulder blades, and Harry really was afraid for a moment that he was on fire. Rational thought stopped then and there, when something pushed against the skin of his shoulders. He screamed again, and tears dripped from under his eyelashes. He just wished the sensation would  _stop_ , and that he would be left alone. Wasn't it enough that he had defeated an insane Dark Lord? He sobbed, and when it felt as if his back was splitting in two, he finally tumbled into sweet oblivion.


	2. Veela?

_When it all became too much, he rolled over and emptied his stomach on the floor of his bedroom. He grimaced when all he could do was dry-heave after a while. He felt miserable, and now his shoulders started to tingle, too. As if his day couldn't get worse. Just as he faced the clock again, an earth shattering scream filled the room. It only took him a few seconds to realise that he was the one who was screaming his lungs out. A cutting sensation ran through his body, and in a daze he realised that it focused on his shoulders. Fire crept along his shoulder blades, and Harry really was afraid for a moment that he was on fire. Rational thought stopped then and there, when something pushed against the skin of his shoulders. He screamed again, and tears dripped from under his eyelashes. He just wished the sensation would stop, and that he would be left alone. Wasn't it enough that he had defeated an insane Dark Lord? He sobbed, and when it felt as if his back was splitting in two, he finally tumbled into sweet oblivion._

* * *

Harry moaned when he woke up. Sunlight was pouring in, and he had to shield his eyes from the harsh glares it bestowed on him. He huffed and yawned. He looked at the clock and blinked. Two PM… How in the name of Merlin had he managed to sleep so long? After yawning yet again, he tried to roll out of bed, to find some clothes. But something promptly pulled him down, and he landed in a heap on the floor, while something was bended in a weird way. Suddenly he recollected the night before, and at once he dreaded to know what had happened. Still, curiosity made him glance behind, and for a moment everything seemed to stop. His breathing, his heart, even time. But then that moment passed, and everything seemed to go faster. This couldn't be right, and this definitely could not happen to  _him_.

He had no recollection at all that his mother or his father had creature blood in them. For what he now spurted was most definitely  _n_ _ot_  humanlike. White, fluffy wings lay crooked about him, and his first thought was to simply sit there, stunned. Then one trembling hand came up to brush against a wing. If he thought it wasn't real, then the sensation that ran through his body quickly managed to convince him otherwise. It was the weirdest sensation. The place he touched was connected to the rest of the wing, all the way to the shoulder and down his back. He tried to get up, and automatically stumbled over, while his wings fluttered to help him keep his balance. Some things were knocked over, and Harry stumbled over to his bedroom door. "I need Hermione," he murmured to himself. His brainy friend would probably know what was wrong with him. Well, maybe not wrong, but what the hell he had become.

Harry nearly fell down the stairs with his new appendages, and it was all he could do to stay upright. After nearly half an hour he finally reached the living room, and he knelt in front of the fire, while he threw Floo Powder in the fireplace. "The Burrow." The fire roared green, and Harry stuck his head in.

After only a minute, Ron walked inside his vision. "Ron! Could you please get Hermione for me? I need her for a moment."

Ron knelt in front of the fireplace with a frown. "Are you alright, mate? There's something different about your face… Did you do something."

Harry shook his head, barely registering Ron's words. "Would you please get her? There's something I need to talk to her about."

Ron just nodded, but still looked suspicious. "Just a second." He walked out of the room to search for his girlfriend.

Harry fidgeted, until he saw the familiar face of his friend. "Hermione. Could you please come on through. I have a bit of a problem…"

It looked as if she wanted to ask him a tonne of questions, so Harry added a "please?"

That did the trick, and Hermione nodded. Harry pulled away, and a few seconds later Hermione stood before him. When she looked up, it seemed that everything about her seemed to stop functioning. "Hermione, I need your help with this. How the hell can I have gotten wings in one day?"

Hermione stumbled over to the couch, and looked at Harry as if he was a special specimen. For all Harry knew, he could actually be. "Do you get my problem now?"

She nodded, dazed. But after a moment of recovery, she got up. "I guess you want to know what you are, correct?"

The dark haired teen nodded.

"Alright, alright. This happened this night?" After a confirming nod, she looked thoughtful. "An inheritance. It usually happens. But magical creature inheritances… Those are more rare. Oh, they do happen, but not that often." She studied the white wings, and walked behind Harry too look at them. "You should probably wipe the blood away. It doesn't look well on your feathers."

Harry tried to look over his shoulder, but couldn't see anything. "Hermione, how am I supposed to go to Hogwarts like this? I don't even know if they are retractable. For all I know they aren't!"

Hermione frowned. "Hush. I just need to study some things. There must've been passed down a certain gene… I have a spell for that, but I need to get back to perform it. Can I touch your wings?" She was itching to know how they felt, so she could compare them to her readings.

Harry shrugged, and the feathery mass shook lightly.

Entranced and ensnared she reached forward, and lightly traced the edge of the wing. The feathers were soft, and the skin under her hand was warm. After a final brush she walked back around and faced Harry, gently gripping his chin. "Your face has changed too. Can you see alright? You're not wearing your glasses…"

Harry blinked, and his hands automatically came up to touch the edge of his glasses, but his fingers didn't encounter anything. "I can see fine… But what's wrong with my face?"

Hermione hummed. "Nothing, really. You can barely see it. You just look more radiant somehow… I swear I've seen something like this before… But I need to look into a few books before I can be sure, and perform the spell to see what's hidden in the family." She gave him a hug. "I'll go and see what I can do for you."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Hermione. You're a great friend."

She nodded. "Just don't think you're a freak or something, Harry. It's completely natural, even though it may not feel like it. I'll see what I can do. But please, don't do anything stupid like trying to saw them off."

Harry smiled a bit. "I won't, Hermione."

She nodded with a small smile. "Good. I'll be going, now. The faster we know what you are, the better. But, they do look nice."

The dark haired teen just shrugged, and gave a reluctant smile. "Maybe."

Hermione just nodded to herself, and grabbed some Floo Powder. "I'll be back tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be able to bring you some news."

This time Harry gave her a fleeting smile. "Thanks. You're really an amazing friend."

With a last smile she was lost in a sea of green.

* * *

Hermione truly came back the next day late in the afternoon.

Harry had a horrible night. After he had cleaned up the mess of that night, he'd crawled back into bed. And that's where the most uncomfortable thing happened. The only position he could sleep in was on his stomach. It wasn't a position he often laid in, so it was different. Different and damned annoying. After some squirming, he fell asleep with an arm tucked under his pillow.

After waking up at ten that morning, he had gotten downstairs to make some breakfast. He noticed that he kept his balance more easily, and even tried to flutter his wings on his own accord. It was nearly as if he had a different set of arms, yet it wasn't. He couldn't quite place the feeling.

After breakfast he walked out into the garden and sat down on the bench, arranging his wings so they wouldn't be pressed against the wood. It's where Hermione found him. Harry looked up when Hermione opened the back door and seated herself next to him.

"You have found something, then?" asked Harry, both afraid and ecstatic to know what he was.

"And how. I think you'll be surprised. I'll start with my findings of the spell I performed. Let me just say it wasn't what I expected. Sometimes, when a wizarding pair gives their child up for adoption, they'll appear as blots on the paper, just as the rest of the line, if they so desire. It can happen with pure-blooded parents who got a Squib as a child. And this is exactly what happened. Your mother's father wasn't a Muggle, but he was a Squib. And that makes all the difference, because the Veela gene you carry comes from you mother's line."

"I'm a Veela? How can I be a Veela? They are female, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "Which gets me to my second point. Yes, you are a Veela, and yes, they can be male. The gene can actually skip a few generations. It's a common misconception that Veelas are only female. It's just that male Veelas are a bit more rare. I have laid down a few books on the table inside. I'll tell you some things now, because I know you dislike reading."

This cracked a small smile out of the both of them. But Hermione turned serious quickly again. "Your wings are indeed retractable, so you don't have to worry about Hogwarts. Nobody will know unless you tell them as such, or when they see your wings. You're not going to like what I'm going to tell next, though. As you well know, female Veelas turn into bird-like creatures whenever they're mad or jealous. Well, male Veelas don't, but instead they have mates. And you're not going to like this at all, because you rely on your mate. You actually need them, no matter how much you deny it yourself."

Harry blinked, before he frowned. "What if that person is a total stranger? What if I've never seen them?"

Hermione smiled. "That won't happen. There is a kind of bond between the two of you. Even this early. And such a bond is connected to a person you know. Or at least see reasonably often. It's not as if your mate will be a person you've only seen once or twice in passing. No, it goes beyond that, really. And, also, your mate could basically be anyone in Hogwarts. Be it boy or girl."

Harry's face paled. "I think… I think I need some time alone, Hermione. Please? I'll read up on the books, but I think this has been more than enough information for me to take in." He sighed. "Nothing will ever go easy for me. Will it?"

Her kind brown eyes regarded him, and she gently laid down her hand on his shoulder. "Maybe. But maybe this could also be the happiness you deserve, in a weird way. The bond between a Veela and its mate is very deep, and consists of a lot of love. Just so you know, Harry. Fire Call me when you think you're ready to talk some more." With a supportive squeeze of her hand on his shoulder, she left.

Harry placed his elbows on his legs and put his face in his hands, nausea threatening to overwhelm him. Why did such things always get him? And his grandfather had been a Squib, adopted by Muggles? And thanks to the gene he carried, he was now turned into a Veela. A Veela who, according to Hermione, needed a mate. And that mate could be just about anyone in Hogwarts. Well, at least it would be a logical choice that his mate would be in Hogwarts, since he barely knew anyone outside of it. What if his mate was an eighth year, just like him, but didn't return to Hogwarts? What would happen? At least he knew his wings were retractable, so he could very nearly have a normal year. He looked up and grabbed a wing, stroking down the soft feathers. He hadn't actually looked in a mirror yet to see what his back would look like now. As he looked his wing up and down he figured it was about ten feet long and four feet wide, if not more. One could describe them as pretty, and Harry was rather fascinated how they could be so sensitive. It was still a foreign feeling, and moving them was something he definitely needed to learn. But somehow a small part of him knew how to.

He flexed them and sighed when he leaned back again, his eyes closed . Maybe he should see it the way Hermione had. Was it true? After all, love was something almost every human craved. And after things with Ginny became awkward, he had set himself up for a difficult year, being without her. But maybe things with Ginny were the way they were because he had a mate. He didn't know, but figured it was probably described in one of the books.

After tapping his foot, he decided to get up and start reading on a book. It wasn't his favourite thing to do, but at least he'd be prepared. He had very nearly been unprepared the rest of his life. And maybe he'll figure out how to retract his wings. They could be quite bothersome, since several things were knocked down already. There was only so much a  _Reparo_  could do.

After he had settled down, he started to read in,  _Knowing The Veela In You_ , which turned out to be quite informative. He decided the books weren't so bad, and started to read the rest of them, which held him captive until it was nearly midnight. Only when his stomach objected, he made some food and crawled into bed.  _'Maybe this Veela thing won't be so bad,'_  was Harry's last thought before he tumbled into black oblivion.

* * *

Harry grumbled as he picked himself off of the floor. It had occurred every now and then that he would tumble out of bed in the dead of the night. His wings tangled around him, the white mass disabling him from moving. Somehow he was unable to keep them retracted as he slept. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he took in his room at Grimmauld Place, and frowned. School was starting in a week, but he hadn't packed yet. After putting on some jeans, he trotted downstairs with a yawn, his wings trailing behind him. He scratched at the joint of his right wing, and rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks. When he reached the counter, he pulled some bread out of the cupboard, and some jam out of the other, along with butter. Two pieces of bread were lying on his plate as he settled down at the dinner table.

Another yawn broke free, and he glanced at the clock, grumbling when it was only half past eight. He grumbled again for good measure about his wings not behaving in the night, which results in waking up early. And being uncomfortable. Don't ever forget being uncomfortable. He looked around the kitchen, and frowned. It was always so damned quiet. Shaking off his thoughts, he got up, put his plate on the counter, and walked back upstairs. Maybe packing wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

The Floo flared to life, and Harry lifted his head. Hermione dusted off her trousers, and beamed when she saw Harry. "Difficulty with containing your wings?"

Harry shrugged. "No. I just thought I'd give them some space. It feels good."

Hermione nodded, and seated herself in the chair across from Harry. "Did you pack?"

The dark haired teen raised his brow. "We're going to Hogwarts today. It would kind of be stupid not to have packed. My trunk's next to the fireplace."

The witch looked back, and sure enough, the trunk stood next to the fireplace. She nodded at Harry, and covered a yawn. "Are you ready to go, then?" she asked, while she stood up.

Harry gave her a light smile, and stood up himself. "Yes, let's face a brand new Voldemort-less year. I'm sure it'll be a great bore." His wings folded themselves up in his back, and Harry quickly threw a shirt on which previously laid on the table.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Life at Hogwarts will never be boring when you're attending."

Harry laughed, and picked up his trunk, eyes glittering with mirth. "No, definitely not. Even without this Veela business, things are about to get stirred up. Somehow I'm looking forward to it."

Hermione gave him a smile, before she stepped into the fireplace. She threw Floo Powder down, said "The Burrow", and whooshed away.

Harry followed after her. Just before he let the Powder fall, he looked around a final time, shook his head, and said his destination, tightly engulfed in flames.


	3. Hogwarts

_Hermione gave him a smile, before she stepped into the fireplace. She threw Floo Powder down, said "The Burrow", and whooshed away._

_Harry followed after her. Just before he let the Powder fall, he looked around a final time, shook his head, and said his destination, tightly engulfed in flames._

* * *

Harry's breath hitched when the looming silhouette of Hogwarts made him glance up. The castle was restored back to its previous grandeur and greatness, and Harry's steps faltered when he looked up at it. So many things had happened in the castle… As much good as bad. He closed his eyes, and swallowed heavily, loudly breathing through his nose. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and opened his eyes again, seeing the concerned eyes of Ron and Hermione. After all, he  _had_  prepared himself for the onslaught and turmoil he was sure to feel. It still didn't compare to actually  _standing_  before the castle again. He gave a nod to his friends, and they walked forward again, as Harry reflected back to that morning.

They were in time, for once. The Platform was crowded with more people than ever seeing their kids off, and a lot of noise assaulted their ears. Harry's entire being shook with turmoil, and he knew what it was, even before Hermione glanced at him. "I can feel their presence," he muttered softly to the witch, who nodded with a relieved sigh.

They quickly got into the train, and found an unoccupied place. Everything was hoisted up and out of the way, and with a pang Harry realised he wouldn't have Hedwig to accompany him this year. He wondered if he truly should be going this year, but the warm, honeyed feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that his mate would be here this year. So he just bit his tongue, and sat down, letting the voices of his friends wash over him. It was nice, and his eyes closed of their own accord, the steady stream of conversation lulling him to a near slumber. He revised his earlier dread. It felt  _good_ to be sitting here. The losses were clear, but the things he gained weighed just as heavy.

He didn't know how long he was drifting between sleep and awareness, but when he opened his eyes again, the sun already began its descend. He yawned and stretched, only now noticing that they were joined by Neville and Luna. He directed a sheepish smile at the two of them. They just smiled, and continued with their conversation. Harry just gazed outside again, watching the sun climbing down, while the sky darkened. The sight calmed him, the picture serene, and this time he could actually enjoy it. There was no Voldemort to ruin this year for him, no Horcruxes, no death threat looming over him, no hunts, just Hogwarts and his Veela inheritance. Harry knew better than to think it would be an easy year. Nothing ever was easy, his inheritance proved just that.

He tuned in to the conversation, noticing how  _good_ they all looked together. The small things, barely noticeable, told him as such. The way Ron and Hermione sat close together, hands brushing every once in a while. And the way Neville nervously ran his hand along the leg of his trousers, indicating he didn't know where to put it, as he glanced every so often at Luna with a smitten look. But, Harry realised, he wouldn't be the third wheel to Ron and Hermione, since he had someone himself. He didn't know  _who_ , just that there was. A gentle smile curved his lips upwards, and he glanced outside again, thinking about a few weeks previous.

A week after he read the books, and knew how to retract his wings, he attended the hearing of the Malfoys. He didn't think it was  _right_ to let them lock them up in Azkaban. Especially since Draco was his own age. No, he would not stand for it. He didn't  _like_ the youngest Malfoy, but he understood so much he hadn't before. He didn't dislike him quite as much as in Hogwarts, he didn't think he could, but he didn't actually like the blond.

So he attended, and spoke up in Narcissa and Draco's name. He couldn't do much for Lucius. Even as he loathed to see the man again, he still winced when he was placed in Azkaban for fifteen years, and forced house arrest after that for ten. Narcissa got three years of house arrest, and, lastly, Draco had to attend to Hogwarts for his final year. It was more of a reward than a punishment, thought Harry, but as he saw the youngest Malfoy pale, he though it might've been for the other teen.

He had left the building, after returning Malfoy's wand to the stunned blond, and finally shook off the weird feeling. He just blamed his wings, since he hadn't been able to stretch them for a few days. It had been a busy day, and he collapsed on the bed, not even caring that his wings sprung free.

Harry blinked and returned to the here and now as Hermione nudged him. "Harry, we're nearly there. We should change." He nodded. They should.

And so Harry entered Hogwarts again for the very first time since the war. It was different, felt different, yet it looked pretty much the same. The paintings looked a lot happier, and actually beamed down at the old students, waving and nodding as they walked along. Harry and his friends took their seat at the Gryffindor table, and Harry couldn't help but let his hand slide along the table top. Everything seemed as he remembered it, and he couldn't help but smile lightly. This was the familiarity that he had missed for so long. Suddenly he was relieved to finally set foot in the old castle again. This was his second home, the place that had been there for him without fail, and even after a war it still stood proud on its very foundations until it was restored. McGonagall strode in, nervous and excited first years behind her. Harry cocked his head, and couldn't help but think if he was ever that small.

Ron moaned throughout the Sorting how hungry he was, and only after Hermione shot him a quelling look did he shut up. Harry grinned at his friend, and ignored the looks directed at him. Some people had noticed how "radiant" he looked. He waved them off with a smile, and nobody bothered to question him again. He let out a sigh of relief, as he clapped his hands when another new Gryffindor joined their table.

The last first year was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the rules were once again laid before them. Harry glanced all around the hall, seeing the excited looks of the newcomers, and their looks of awe and dismay as the rules surely would spoil their fun. He let out a small smile. No terror would ever befall those faces anymore. He was sure that within a few years, people would forget Voldemort altogether and will only be remembered by storytelling. Somehow seeing those beaming, solemn faces made everything worth it. Not forgotten, never forgotten, but  _worth_ it. Nobody died in vain, and it felt as if a small weight was lifted off of his shoulders, and made the evening look brighter.

Dinner appeared before his eyes, and a few spots down he heard a student gasp in surprise. He smiled, before he tucked in, appreciating the Hogwarts food after being without for too long.

"I 'ove 'Ogwarts foot 'o much," Ron tried to get out with a mouth full.

Harry snorted, and Hermione scowled at her boyfriend. The dark haired teen thought it was an insult to Hermione's cooking skills dating back to last year. He winced inwardly, and quickly wolfed down his mashed potatoes. He longed to get back to his Gryffindor bed.

His wish to do so after defeating Voldemort was quickly shattered. The Gryffindor Tower was blown apart, and the dormitories were unrecognisable. It had been a blow to his heart, to see his most loved tower in such a state. He didn't know how long he just stood there, seeing the Fat Lady hanging from her hinges, the Common Room behind her torn apart, but eventually Ginny had found him there. She'd approached him, and tangled her hand with his, and Harry had felt  _awful_  for the fact he could only muster up brotherly feelings for her. That thought startled him more than the cold hand or her sudden appearance. He had  _missed_ her, but obviously his feelings had changed.  _How did that happen?_ he asked himself as she leaned in to kiss him. He pulled away with a regretful sigh. "Wait, Gin. I don't think… I mean, I don't…" he knew he was babbling, but how did you tell a person you haven't liked them all of a sudden? He just blamed it on his tiredness and on the grief he felt. "Ginny, I don't think this'll work out. I can't do this anymore."

Ginny pulled away, shock written clearly over her fine features. "What? What do you mean with you can't do this anymore? I love you! Do you love someone else?" Her eyes were as much fire as ice, and Harry swallowed.

"There's nobody there, Ginny. How could there be, when I was so isolated for nearly a year? No, I just… My feelings have changed. I think we need some time apart. I think… I think today's events just… I don't know. I'm just so tired, and it's all just a mess. I need some time to think, Ginny. It's not fair on you to tie you down to me, while I'm a confused mess." He massaged his temples, a headache was blooming brightly behind his eyes.

"So you're just going to walk away and let things be? I never knew you to be a coward, Harry," she said defiantly.

Harry's weary eyes settled on her brown ones. "Ginny, please. Don't make this harder on me than it already is. I do love you, but more like a sister. You deserve someone better than me."

"Who can be better than Harry Potter?"

Harry's eyes hardened. "I thought you could see passed that. But I see you can't. I don't want us to end on bad terms, Ginny. Please, just let it be. I'm sure you'll find someone who is better for you, and can actually give you what you need."

Her eyes were getting watery, and her voice trembled. "But Harry, I want you. Can't we work this out?"

Harry shook his head, and gently detached his hand from her death grip. "I don't think so, Gin. Please, just go back to your family. I'm sure they're missing you." And before his own tears showed, and before she could move, he had walked away, down ruined corridors. Hogwarts was eerily silent, and Harry hurried down to find Ron and Hermione. They had to know where he was going, before they searched all over the place for him. He finally found them, talking softly to one another, hands clasped firmly.

"Hermione, Ron. I'm going to Grimmauld Place. I just can't stay here at the moment, and it's the best option I have right now." He swallowed heavily, wanting to escape the praises and congratulations which were sure to come.

Hermione frowned, though. "Are you sure? We still don't know if it's save."

Harry had given her an exhausted smile. "That's what I need to find out. And I'll put up wards, I'll make sure of it."

She had given him a tentative smiled, and embraced him, while Harry's throat clogged up, the events of that day only now truly hitting him. He had stepped out of her embrace, nodded once, and made his way outside. Once he was out of the Anti-Apparation wards, he Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

Returning back to the present, he noticed the food had vanished, and the tell-tale scraping and talking alerted him to the fact dinner was over. Hermione tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned his head her way with a small smile, before he stood up.

"Are you alright?" Her gentle voice asked him, and he gave her a wider smile.

"I'm fine. I was just thinking."

She nodded, and the three of them made their way to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry was feeling giddy. This was the first time he would see it again after its destruction.

As it turned out to be, it was completely restored. Nothing indicated that the once mighty tower was ripped apart. Only small signs, which were barely there, let Harry know that some things were altered. Or maybe it was because the room seemed to  _breathe_. Harry shook his head, and climbed up the stairs to the dormitories. It was exactly as it had been. Five beds were still standing, and he knew Dean and Seamus had returned, too, to finish their education. It made him grin, and he threw himself on the bed, the familiarity of it all nearly brought tears to his eyes. This,  _this_ , is what he had missed so much. This is what he fought for. And now that his eyes could see for themselves how life continued with smiles and laughs, he thought his sacrifice to finally finish Voldemort off was worth it. The thought filled his heart with warmth, and a small smile played on his lips.

He stood back up again, and changed into his pyjamas. He drew his curtains shut, crawled under the covers, and at last cast two spells on the blood-red hangings, which insured him that they would  _stay_ shut, until he lifted them himself. He had learned them in one of the books Hermione had given him, and since his wings had the tendency to unfold in the dead of the night, he cast them to be sure his secret stayed just that; a secret. Because for now he wasn't willing to tell his roommates what happened. Ron knew, of course, but he couldn't yet muster up the courage to tell the others. So this would do for the moment.

His head touched the pillow, and his eyes closed of their own accord. He felt more happy than ever, which was probably also due to the fact the Veela in him crowed its victory that its mate was close-by. Harry's thoughts began to stray, and he felt sleep pressing down on him. It had been a long day.


	4. Jinxes

_His head touched the pillow, and his eyes closed of their own accord. He felt more happy than ever, which was probably also due to the fact the Veela in him crowed its victory that its mate was close-by. Harry's thoughts began to stray, and he felt sleep pressing down on him. It had been a long day._

* * *

Potions was… strange, to say the least. Harry never knew how much he counted on the fact Professor Snape would be swooping in in his bat-like manner. A stern looking woman with wispy brown hair and glasses admonished the talking teenagers. The seventh and eighth years were gathered in the dank, warm classroom, and already potions fumes were circling the very air.

"This year I'll be teaching you Potions. Not all of you have made it to this level, but everyone seated around here has. I would not expect anything less than an E from all of you. An A won't be acceptable for your N.E.W.T.s . If you fall behind, or if you have trouble with a certain part, you can come to me, or ask a different student who  _does_  know what to do. If you look at the blackboard, you'll see today's designed potion, and the ingredients you need to use herein. Groups of two are accepted, or you can work individually. Please, begin."

A flurry of activity followed, but Harry stayed seated, waiting until the initial chaos subsided. Instead he opted to look around the room. The Gryffindors and the Slytherins were still separated by an invisible line. Ginny caught his eye as she walked by, and he nearly winced. He knew he should probably tell her what happened over the Summer, but things between them were stale. He didn't dare count how much glaring he had to stand from across the table. At least Malfoy had stopped his glaring.

Almost automatically his eyes sought out the blond. Harry frowned. He had stopped his glaring, yes. But also just about anything else. He was the epitome of misery and dread. The pale face looked as if someone had just died. Harry didn't know what he felt for the other teen. Not pity. Perhaps sympathy. And maybe a perverse sort of justice. He frowned. No, not justice. Never justice. He couldn't quite identify it, much like he couldn't figure out what made the blond look like he'd see ghosts every day in his sleep. Or maybe he did. Harry simply didn't know, and he looked back to the front of the class.

Almost everyone had gathered their ingredients, and Harry finally stood up to gather his own. As he neared the cupboard, he felt someone stumble against him, and he turned around just in time to prevent the other person from falling. "Easy there, Malfoy," he said, as he recognised who it was.

Malfoy pulled away from him as if burned, and pushed against him to get to the cupboard without a word. Harry observed him with darkened eyes. He heard someone snicker, and his eyes shot to a Slytherin seventh year. As he turned back around to finally gather the ingredients, he noticed the seventh year pocketing his wand. His eyes narrowed as he thoughtfully plucked the ingredients from a shelf. A Tripping Jinx would suffice in making anyone stumble.

He sat down next to Hermione with a smile. The water was boiling already, and the ingredients could be applied. Harry read the instructions carefully, trying his best to actually make a decent potion. Somehow he thought he owed Professor Snape such a thing, after being a horrible student to him.  _Well, it's not as if the bastard actually made things easier for me_ , Harry thought with a wry smile.

He stirred the potion carefully, watching as the colour swirled and changed, without settling on a permanent one. Pink, purple, blue, green, brown, yellow, with each stir the colour would change, making several students gasp and 'oh' and 'ah'. Hermione chopped some ingredients beside him, her brow knitted together in concentration. He knew this part would be tricky, since it required perfect timing. He kept on stirring, while he held out his hand for the ingredients. Hermione let them fall in his hand, while she herself hovered her other hand above the cauldron. "On three. One. Two. Three." They simultaneously let the ingredients drop, and both looked at the shimmering potion. After a few seconds of stirring and looking, the potion turned a pale blue, and they both heaved a sigh of relief. Harry retracted his spoon and laid it down on the table.

"Ten minutes, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. If everything went well, that is. If not it would be pointless to continue. Are you sure it's the right shade?" She peered into the cauldron, her brows practically melting in one.

Harry grinned at her. "Fairly."

She smiled at him, and her face relaxed as she sat back. "Well, we'll find out in about nine minutes anyway."

So they waited patiently, every now and then peering at the blue potion. When the ten minutes were over, Harry cautiously stirred fifteen times counter-clockwise. He put the ladle down, and looked at Hermione.

The bushy-haired girl bent down over the potion, and a cautious smile filled her face. "I think we've managed to do it. It seems to be the right shade of mauve."

The bell rang, and Hermione quickly put some of their potion in a phial. She put it on the teacher's table, with their name tags on it, before she accompanied Harry to Transfiguration. Ron was already seated. "How'd Potions go?" he asked, when they sat down.

"All right," Harry commented, shrugging.

McGonagall strode in, catching all their attention, before the lesson started.

* * *

"I swear, it's traditional for the Professors to give us loads of homework on the first day of school," Ron whined when they entered the common room.

Hermione just rolled her eyes, not even bothering to comment on her boyfriend's antics.

Harry just smiled at the both of them, before reluctantly pulling out some parchment, ink, a feather and his books. The first essay on his list was Transfiguration. He figured procrastinating wouldn't help this year, even though that fact was enough to make him wince. If he seriously wanted to have a fair future after school, he would follow some of Hermione's advice. And the first of it was making his homework on time. He sighed as he saw the magnitude of the project. Well, it was to be expected.

He leaned back, and looked over at his essay, an accomplished smile upon his face. Hermione looked pleased, and Harry nearly rolled his eyes at her look. It was just an essay… But, Harry noticed, Hermione was more inclined to help him now that he finally did it on time. Ron was just sulking behind the chessboard, where he played a game against Seamus.

He stretched, but didn't quite manage to work out all the kinks in his back. Maybe a good wing-stretching made him feel better. He started on another essay, this time for Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was being taught by a surly looking man. Harry didn't like him on first sight, and it proved to be right, when he droned on and on about theoretical magic in a bored voice without passion.

His attention wavered quickly, however, when he needed to describe all the uses of Expelliarmus, which would result in a two foot essay. After a dozen or so sentences, he threw the paper away in annoyance. After all, he wasn't like Hermione, and never would be keen on homework.

Hermione raised a brow at his antics.

"I'll be heading to bed. See you tomorrow?"

Hermione nodded, attention already fixated on her Ancient Runes.

"Night, Ron," Harry told his friend, who just gave a vague grunt.

He chuckled, before he dumped his book bag at the side of his bed, put on his pyjamas bottoms, drew the curtains shut, and be spelled them, before he fell face down on his soft bed. He didn't even twitch a limb when his wings shot free, making Harry groan in pleasure as he worked out his kinks by rotating his wings. Merlin, that felt wonderful.

* * *

"Harry, wait! It isn't our fault. These are the rules! Do you think we  _like_  to lose you? You're the best Seeker we have! You're my friend, do you think I get a kick out of telling you this? You know how the rules are, and your wings are classified as cheating. You can be mad at me all you want, but I can't do anything about it, as you well know!"

Harry was pacing in the common room, lightly growling under his breath, while both of his hands were clenched in his hair. His agitation made his wings want to break free. Fucking hell, this was ridiculous! He had stopped walking away, all right. It didn't make him feel better, facing Ron, who just told him he was kicked out of the team. It very well  _hurt_. "So, what'll be the reason you'll give the rest of the school? Don't you think they'll wonder why I'm suddenly not a Seeker anymore?"

Ron looked rather angry. "Fuck, Harry, I already told you I don't particularly  _like_  to bring you the news. But it's not fair to vent your frustration on me. The rules were made up centuries ago! I don't want to exclude you, but it's not fair to let you keep playing. If anyone found out, or if your wings suddenly will spring free, how will it look like? It's unwanted attention."

The black haired youth wanted to hurl something, break something, or just smash a glass. Scratch that, he desperately wanted to  _destroy_ something, to watch it shatter in a thousand pieces. He pulled at his hair, barely noticing that he actually pulled free quite a few hairs. "Why couldn't you just tell me earlier? Planned on letting me know, just when the try-outs were going to be held or something?" He nearly snarled, but he didn't care, because the one thing he was  _good_  at was taken away.

Now Ron looked annoyed. "I would call a few weeks in hardly telling you just before the try-outs. These are the  _rules_!"

Harry clenched his jaw, before letting out a long breath. "Don't wait up for me." He stormed out of the portrait hole, shaking with adrenalin. He just  _had_  to get away, before he hurt somebody or something. This was the best way to calm himself. He walked down corridors, hurried down flights of stairs, and constantly muttered under his breath, not caring that it was past curfew and he could be caught any time. What could they do? Give him detention? It wasn't as if he could miss out on Quidditch anymore. The thought stung bitterly.

He dwindled down, and the temperature dropped after every flight of stairs he took. He had stopped walking in the frenzied pace, and began to feel guilty. His steps had become deliberate, thoughtful, measured. Maybe he had overreacted… After all, it wasn't Ron his fault, like he said. And he could still fly. He grinned wryly. He wouldn't even need a broom anymore. After trying the Room of Requirement, he started training after a week. He still hadn't quite mastered how to fly well. But at least he didn't drop like a brick, as he had when he first started.

And his mate… Well, he truly had one, and he had accepted it, in a very basic way. He knew he needed one, to keep him healthy, and as a good, loyal companion, but it was the lack of control over  _who_  it was that made the acceptance harder. And he felt it, a pull, tugging him somewhere. But every time he tried to follow it, it would dissolve, as if it was meant to be a secret for a while longer. It frustrated him as much as it amused him. A mystery meant to be unravelled, a puzzle, of which only a few pieces were missing…

Talking about mysteries, Malfoy was by far the largest one. Harry stopped walking, and leaned against a wall, pondering. Malfoy was… well, Malfoy was quiet. As if he wished he would just combust, or cease to exist… Ever since Malfoy started attending Hogwarts he looked like that, as if he just wanted to hide, or run away. It had almost been second nature, watching Malfoy. As if it were important, somehow. Harry decided a few weeks ago that he probably kept an eye on him, to make sure he had made the right decision to keep him out of Azkaban. Though there was no doubting that bit. Not one bit of hesitation. Harry sighed, and pushed himself away from the wall. It wouldn't do to think too much about Malfoy. He might end up like he did in sixth year.

As he wandered the hall, deep in thought, he heard whispering, spitting voices. All his hairs stood up. Something informed him that it was no pleasant chat. And one voice stood out clearly.

"—won't be pushed around!"

"You have no say in that matter, Malfoy. You're scum. Potter should've let you go to that cell to let you rot! You deserve everything that will be coming your way. A Kiss is even more than you're worth. Those jinxes were just the beginning. Oh, and don't even think about telling anyway. Who will believe you? You've got no friends. They abandoned you, just like they should."

Harry's temper flared a second time, as he heard and saw Malfoy being pushed against the wall by a seventh year.

"I would believe him," he said softly, but clearly, a dark undertone lining his voice.

The seventh year whipped his head around to the voice. His eyes narrowed, before he released Malfoy with a disgusted snarl. "Slytherin's too good for people like you. I'll watch you, Malfoy." He strode away, and passed Harry without a glance. Harry decided against using violence. It was a near thing, though.

Malfoy stood slumped against the wall, his face and eyes downcast. He looked too frail, too thin. Too scared, too angry, and too dejected. Harry wondered how he could read Malfoy as well as he did. Or when Malfoy had become so readable.

At last Malfoy looked up, and he looked up with eyes so fierce that Harry had to blink. And he realised he looked more scared and embarrassed than angry at him. "Fuck you, Potter. You can't always be the hero."

Harry knew how to handle this Malfoy, at least. "Well, sorry for saving your arse, Malfoy." He huffed and turned around, intend on walking away from the irate teen.

"Next time, don't bother!"

That made him stop, however. He desperately wanted to walk away with every fibre of his being, to not be pulled in. He really did, but something made him turn. Maybe the defeated tone made him, maybe it was the weakness Malfoy had given him, or maybe it was something else. Or it was a combination of all the things. "Why?"

The blond's chest heaved, and he breathed quickly, his fists balled at his sides. "I can handle this on my own, thank you very much. Your help is not required."

Harry cocked his head. Had the seventh year been right, though? Did Malfoy truly had no-one here? He realised quickly that it was the same person from Potions, those few weeks ago, and anger surged to the forefront of his mind. He hadn't imagined the Tripping Jinx, at least. Merlin, he should've knocked him out cold. "Malfoy, that was the same person who tripped you with Potions, isn't he?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to upset the other teenager.

Malfoy looked away, his jaw clenched shut. "I don't want to talk to you, Potter. Good night." He tried to walk passed Harry, but he caught him around his wrist.

Malfoy pulled away, as if burned, hissing lightly. "Just leave me the fuck alone." His gaze could've cut steel, and Harry watched him go with a frown. His own hand tingled a bit, and his eyes watched the tense form leave. What was all that about? Harry shook his head, before he walked back, retracing his steps. There was something going on. Malfoy was obviously the person the Slytherins picked on. He had lost standard, his housemates, and now obviously his right to be a Slytherin. Harry didn't know how to feel about it all, but he would try to keep an eye out for the blond Slytherin. Ron would probably crow with glee when he knew what was going on, and to whom. But this was ridiculous, to be excluded from your own house. It was supposed to be just like family.

Harry let out a long breath, as he climbed the last flight of stairs, rethinking his previous thoughts about not dwelling on Malfoy too much. After all, if your own house was against you, who was left to support you? Harry sighed, with the password on his lips, before he noticed The Fat Lady wasn't in her portrait. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, deciding what to do next. Figuring she would be back, he slid down the wall, intend to wait until she returned. Well, that's what you got for storming out of the portrait hole in a snit at half past eleven. Harry let his head fall on his drawn up knees, sighing lightly. Merlin, he truly  _had_  overreacted. Like Ron said, rules were rules, and even though it was a bitter pill to swallow, it was still the truth. Maybe Ron was still in the common room?

He cautiously stood up, and knocked on the portrait, hoping someone was still on the other side. The portrait opened, however, it wasn't Ron, but Hermione on the other side. She smiled wanly at him. "Ron told me you had stormed off. Do you feel better now?"

Harry sighed, and stepped inside, falling into one of the armchairs. "In a way. But I shouldn't have reacted the way I have. It was uncalled for." He hung his head in shame.

Hermione patted Harry's back sympathetically. "I know I don't like Quidditch, but I can understand what you feel like. But chin up, Harry, you can still fly when you want to. And, from what I've heard, Malfoy won't be in the Quidditch team, either.

Harry cocked his head. "About that. I think Malfoy's being picked on by his housemates. They jinx him. I know you don't like him, Hermione, and neither do I, but will you keep an eye on him? I'm worried about him."

The thing about Hermione was that she wouldn't raise her brow, snort, or look amused. She just frowned, contemplating what to say next. "I noticed he was getting paler. I don't really think he deserves our concern, but I'll help you. Even if it's Malfoy."

The dark haired teen looked relieved. "Thanks, Hermione. It's important, somehow. Well, good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said with a smile, but when he had disappeared, she frowned. "I think there might be a reason why you want to protect him, Harry," she murmured in the dark of the room, before she too went to her bed. This needed thought.


	5. Mate?

_The dark haired teen looked relieved. "Thanks, Hermione. It's important, somehow. Well, good night. I'll see you tomorrow."_

" _Good night, Harry," Hermione said with a smile, but when he had disappeared, she frowned. "I think there might be a reason why you want to protect him, Harry," she murmured in the dark of the room, before she too went to her bed. This needed thought._

* * *

"Harry, quit staring. It's getting obvious now."

Harry turned his head to Hermione, a sheepish smile on his face. "I'm sorry. It's just… I don't know. I'm completely out of sorts."

Hermione frowned. "What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head. "Not here. Later, right?"

The girl nodded, knowing they would head up, since the first Quidditch match started today. It was too painful for the dark haired teen to watch the game, even though he loved it, so they decided to have a study session. But Hermione already knew it would be in vain, since Harry would be miles away. Still, it was the perfect opportunity to talk.

Most of the hall stood up, as if on cue, and filtered through the doors, to go to the field. Harry and Hermione waited, until the flurry of movement passed, before they stood up to make their way to the common room, passing Malfoy as they did. Hermione let her gaze linger, before the moment was over and they parted ways. The teenage witch never had a reason to sympathise with the blond, but it had been weeks since Harry asked to watch over him. And the more she saw, the more angry she became.  _"I'm worried about him."_ The words echoed in her head, and she couldn't agree more. At first it was really subtle, and she seriously considered telling Harry that nothing was the matter, that he probably got the situation all wrong, before she  _saw_  it. The little things, subtle things, and it disgusted her. It still did. That  _housemates_  could be so cruel to exclude one of their own, to even go so far to jinx him, and make his life absolute hell. The Malfoy she knew was  _nothing_  compared to this one. The old one was snooty, spoiled, racist, arrogant, stuck-up, but the new one was worse, in a way. Quiet, downcast, unhappy, maybe even depressed. Hermione frowned.  _'Scratch that, most certainly depressed.'_

She followed Harry up the stairs, until they entered the common room. As expected, no-one remained left behind, and they took their seats in front of the fire. "All right, Harry. What did you want to tell me?" She lowered her voice. "Did something happen? Is it the Veela?"

Harry nodded, slow and considerate. He didn't know where to start. But Hermione could probably help him. He knew that. "Hermione, I—I just—" He stopped speaking, and angrily rubbed his eyes. Pulling his hands away, he sighed. "I don't know what's happening to me. It's like the answer is staring me right in my face, but it's as if I've been robbed of my glasses. I just can't  _see_  it. And it _hurts_. In here." He raised his hand up to his heart, a pained expression on his face. He breathed harshly, not wishing to let his friend see just how close to tears he was, high on his emotions. "It hurts and I—it doesn't go away, no matter what I do. I've started to eat sweet things now – we both know what that means – and it  _scares_  me. I just don't know what to  _do_ , Hermione."

Hermione pulled her knee up to the sofa, so she faced Harry, instead of the fire. "Harry…" When that didn't caught his attention, she laid her hand on his knee, making him look up. A small smile lit her face. "I know what that means. And I know you don't like it, and that you're scared. You have every right to be. But these visions  _will_  help you. Though I still don't exactly understand the need for sweetness for them…" She wandered off, her eyes staring far away, before she shook herself. "Sorry. Harry, you knew this would happen, since you haven't had a chance to find your mate. And I know you might not like what the dreams might reveal, but at least you'll get a better understanding of who your mate could be. It's a way to help you, not a way to make you face cruel revelations, even though it might feel like it. It's not. It's difficult, and hard, and it shouldn't be you who has to deal with it, but fact is, you have to. So just welcome the visions, no matter what they may reveal, because if it weren't for those…" She trailed off, her own eyes getting rather watery.

Harry covered her hand with his own on his knee. "I know, Hermione, and that's what scares me the most. Not the visions itself, but what may happen when they're not enough."

A heavy sigh of Harry interrupted their pensive silence. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I shouldn't think ahead so far, but there's still the fear, you know? It's also rather cruel, in a way. The whole 'if you don't find your mate, you'll deteriorate until you're so weak your body will give up' thing doesn't sit that well with me. And it feels like a task, somehow. As if there's a time limit. And I don't like that, since what kind of base does that have for love? "Oh, hello there! You're the mate of one Harry Potter, who is a Veela! Also, if you don't accept me, or if you just ignore me, I'll die a slow, most likely, painful death. So how about it?" That's horrible, Hermione! And what if my mate has never liked me? Or, worse, what if that person would never accept, because I'm always in the limelight?" Harry pulled a trembling hand through his hair, eyes for the first time since knowing he was a Veela truly frightful.

Hermione comforted him in the only way she knew how to, by giving him a hug, which he returned wholeheartedly. "It'll be all right, Harry. It always has been, and I'm sure it will now. Don't start worrying yet about what your mate thinks. Just try to figure out who that person is, first. We'll go from there. All right?"

Harry nodded, glad for her support. His throat closed up, and he clutched her to him. His eyes burned, but he wouldn't let the tears fall. He had to believe her when she said it would be all right. He just had to. It was the only way to stay sane.

* * *

_When Harry woke up, he was sitting in a large, open field, his wings gently splayed next to him, as a big fan, the white feathers fluttering in a gentle breeze. The sun warmed him pleasantly, and he closed his eyes, a content smile on his face. This was nice. The green grass underneath him was soft and healthy. The sky was blue, a few white clouds splayed here and there. He let himself fall backwards, his wings rearranging themselves, and Harry let out a content sigh._

_He didn't know how long he'd been laying there, but something changed. Harry opened his eyes, wondering where the sun went. What he encountered made the breath stick in his throat. The_ _luscious field was no more. Instead, it was darkened, the once green grass a brown, ugly_ _,_ dying, _colour. The warm sun and blue sky were no more._ _Dark, ominous clouds gathered all around him, stretching as far as he could see. Lightening flashed in the distance, and the once pleasant breeze turned into a harsh wind. Harry stood up shakily, looking around him. He could barely see ahead, the darkened sky aiding in the darkness, and his own hair whipping around didn't help. Half a second later, the skies opened up to let down a drenching rain._

_Harry's heart thudded in his chest. He could barely see ahead in the pouring rain. How was he supposed to find his mate? He made a full turn, trying to see something, anything. Another flash arched across the sky, lighting up parts of the field. And in the furthest corner, he saw someone. Harry's heart stopped in that one second, before he ran full out to the place he knew his mate was. Lightening lit up the sky, making him see the helplessness of the situation. A harsh wind knocked him over,_ _making him stumble,_ _but he didn'_ _t care. He had to get_ _to his mate. That person needed him. He redoubled his efforts, even if the wind wanted to knock him down, as if it wanted to keep him away from his mate. Harry snarled, feet firmly planted in the ground with every step he took. He_ had  _to reach his mate, to comfort him._

_Even through the rain, he could see the silhouette of a person, huddled in itself to shield itself from the harsh elements. The wind was harsher than ever, but Harry gritted his teeth, before he finally fell down on his knees. There, right in front of him, was his mate. Harry's heart stuttered, before he reached out, his hand encountering the flesh of a shoulder. The person nearly cringed away from his touch, and curled in on itself. Harry's heart broke at the sight. He scooted closer, and threw both his arms around the boy, for he was a boy, before his wings followed suit. The other boy struggled, but Harry didn't relent. "Please, don't fight me. I'm trying to help. Please." Harry's tears mingled with the rain, and a sob nearly escaped him. His mate was trying to fight him. He didn't want him._

_The struggling stopped, but the other boy didn't look up. Harry only clutched him tighter, his hand caressing the matted strands of blond hair. Around them, the harsh wind and rain calmed a bit, but Harry neither noticed, nor cared. The important thing was curled up in his arms and wings, and it was all that he needed._

_The other boy tentatively wrapped his own arms around Harry, their embrace awkward. Harry suddenly needed to know. He_ had _to know who his mate was. It suddenly was all that mattered._

_He pulled away slowly, but suddenly a mist gathered around them, making Harry unable to see. "No," he muttered. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Please." But an unnatural wind gathered around him, making him shield his eyes, before everything went dark._

* * *

Harry sat up, a sob escaping his lips. His face was covered in tears, and his wings were wrapped around him, as if to shield him from outside horrors. Harry clenched his fists. It shouldn't protect _him_ from outside horrors, but his mate. He needed it far more than he did. He wiped his tears away, before his hand limply fell back on the bed.

He retracted his wings, before he lifted the spell on his curtains. He drew them open, and clutched at his heart when Ron stood directly in front of him. Ron blinked sleepily. "You 'kay? Heard noise."

Harry's heart calmed down a bit, and he smiled. "It's all right, Ron. Go back to sleep. I'm fine."

"Sleep." A happy expression overcame his friend's face, before he turned around and crawled under the covers, his snores beginning even when his head barely touched his pillow.

Harry let out a long breath, before he stood up, silently padding over to the stairs. He walked down, stumbling a bit, while he cursed silently, before he moved to the sofa in front of the fire. Of course even the embers had died out, but it didn't matter. His head was still reeling, and he had to think. After swallowing, he laid down on the sofa, staring ahead at the ceiling. So his mate was…. male. It didn't bother him that much, even though it was a bit of a shock. He threw an arm across his eyes, a sigh escaping him. He couldn't even start to imagine what Ginny would have to say about that. Or even Ron! They would think he led them on. But it wasn't what bothered him the most. He knew what dreams were supposed to tell. And this hadn't been a dream. No, more of a nightmare. And that alone gave Harry reason to think that his mate needed help. Maybe he had lost someone in the war…?

Another sigh passed his lips, and his arm fell away, to pluck at the rug beneath his fingers. Blond hair, though. Even at Hogwarts, with hundreds of pupils, it wasn't hard to miss a blond-haired person. Especially a boy. It was all Harry had to go on. Oh, and the fact that said blond-haired boy fit perfectly in his arms. And that the same boy had troubles. Harry's eyes shot open, his heart stuttering in his chest, and he paled. Blond-haired, troubled… Merlin, no. It couldn't be. No, he needed more clues before he could be sure. Maybe it wasn't him at all, and he was mistaken. Suddenly he knew what he needed. Hermione. She always knew what to do. But… she was asleep now. Harry nibbled on his lip. Should he wait until morning? He suddenly glanced at his watch. Two o'clock in the middle of the night. That made his decision rather easy. He stood up, to go to his bed, until shock made him clutch at his heart again. "Merlin, Hermione! Couldn't you say something, or at the very least make a noise!"

She smiled sleepily. "Sorry. I just heard a noise, and I went to check. I didn't mean to startle you. You're usually more alert anyway." She walked passed him, and sat down in the sofa, closing her eyes. "So, tell me what is wrong."

Harry cautiously lowered himself on the sofa again. "How do you know if something is wrong?"

She opened one eye and glared at him without effect. "First, you wouldn't be sitting here if something weren't. Second, don't insult my intelligence. And third, you wouldn't be startled easily." Her voice softened. "So, something's bothering you. And as your friend, I want to help you. So what's the matter?"

Harry frowned. "I had a dream. At least, it started off as a dream. I was in a field, alone, and it was sunny. I laid down, but something changed, almost shifted, and then it wasn't a pleasant dream anymore. It was stormy, almost as in a nightmare. There was a thunderstorm, and I saw my mate, huddled in a corner." He swallowed. "So I ran to him. It was difficult, but I managed. He was shivering, and when I put my hand on his shoulder, he just curled in on himself. After I told him it was all right, he threw his arms around me, almost as if he wants to be saved. Hermione, my mate is troubled. And I can't – I just  _can't_ leave him there. Or do nothing. I have to help him, Hermione." He realised that once again he had been crying, and he angrily wiped the tears away.

"He?" she asked softly, her heart aching for her friend.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Hermione gave a nod of her own. "All right. What did you manage to see or feel."

The dark haired teen sighed. "I don't really know that much, but looking back, some things look… clearer. He has blond hair, about the same length as my own, he's lean and rather pale. But, honestly, I don't know much more. Only that he's rather troubled. Which made me think that he might've lost someone in the war. But – and this is wild speculation, Hermione – I think it might be Draco Malfoy."

Hermione frowned, biting on her lower lip. "I had the same thought, a few weeks back, when you asked me to watch him. But… can you be certain?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It was just an idea. I have to have more dreams to be sure. Like I said, it is wild speculation, since he's really the only blond-haired person I know who I see reasonably often, and the only one I know who has troubles at the moment. It just made sense to me to think it's him."

Hermione nodded, a yawn escaping her. "All right. We'll figure it out later today. Or else in the days to come. But, Harry, will you be all right?" she asked with concern, her brown eyes sympathetic.

He gave her a wobbly smile. "Yes, I think I will be. Let's just figure out if it is indeed Malfoy, and we'll take it from there. Thank you, Hermione, for being such a good friend."

She smiled, before she stood up and gave him a hug. "It's nothing. As long as you're happy. I'll see you later."

He smiled at her, before he stood up, himself. His eyelids began to droop, and he sluggishly made his way to his bed.

He was asleep before his head even touched the pillow.

* * *

Harry woke up to the sound of someone practically getting a heart attack.

"What the bloody hell?!"

He opened his eyes, glaring at Seamus. But something looked off. "What?" he asked gruffly, raising himself.

Seamus pointed, barely able to put together a coherent sentence. "Wings! You and… wings. How can you have wings?!"

Harry groaned, only now remembering he forgot to pull his curtains closed. Or put the spell up. And, what was worse, Seamus had woken up the dorm.

"Seamus, shuddup," Ron groaned, before he, too, opened his eyes to see what all the commotion was about. One look at Harry, and he sat straight up. "Oh, no. Harry, how could you forget!"

The dark haired teen flushed. "I didn't mean to! I was up last night, and I forgot to pull my curtains! I didn't mean to!" With a sigh, he turned to the rest of his housemates, who looked both curious and aghast. "I'm a Veela. I've turned into one on my birthday, and I've been trying to hide it from you. Please,  _please_ , don't tell anyone. I don't need this kind of attention."

Seamus looked like he might fall down in a dead faint. Instead he lowered himself to the ground, only a few paces from Harry's bed.

Everyone got up from their bed to gather around Harry's, who felt a bit exposed without his pyjama shirt.

"Are you really a Veela?" Neville asked softly, his eyes swivelling from Harry's face to his wings, just like everybody in the room except Ron.

Harry nodded, whishing he could draw the covers up. He retracted his wings, and eyes widened around the room. "Yes, I'm really a Veela. Yes, you may ask questions. No, you may not touch the wings?"

"Why?" asked Dean, not accusingly, but curious.

Harry shrugged. "I don't really feel comfortable when people touch them. I think me and my mate are the only ones who get to touch them."

Seamus's eyes widened. "You have a mate? As in, bound to be together? That sorta thing?"

He groaned, but nodded. "Yes, mate in every sense of the word, I'm afraid."

"Where is your mate?"

Harry wondered why  _Neville_  of all people should be interested in such a thing. "I'm, er, still looking for that person. It's still sort of a mystery."

Seamus finally managed to stand up, before he walked forward and clapped Harry on his back. "We'll be here for ye, Harry. Won't we?"

Nods followed that statement, and Harry smiled. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me. But, erm, can't a bloke get a break? I would really like to dress, now that you've woken me up." He mock-glared at Seamus, who saluted him, before everybody scampered off to their part of the room.

Harry sighed. It was bound to be a long day.


	6. Potions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! It feels good to be back (finally!). It has nearly been six months(!). In those months I have moved out, created some sort of writer's block, and not so long ago my health wasn't that great for well over a month (flu, tonsillitis, etc., etc.). But now I have recovered, and I'm back in full swing (I hope!). To those who are also reading Unwavering Love, it's even more slow than this chapter, as I have seemed to have created a bigger writer's block on that one. But not to worry, I'll see to it that it gets done!
> 
> Everyone: Thanks for sticking out with me, even though I only now present a new chapter to you all! It truly has been too long!

_Nods followed that statement, and Harry smiled. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me. But, erm, can't a bloke get a break? I would really like to dress, now that you've woken me up." He mock-glared at Seamus, who saluted him, before everybody scampered off to their part of the room._

_Harry sighed. It was bound to be a long day._

* * *

Harry was determined as he made his way across the Potions classroom, his eyes and jaw set. He moved his eyes over the pale figure he was looking for, before he put his bag down next to the table and slid in next to Malfoy.

The other teen stiffened, before he glanced at Harry, his brow furrowed. "Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry greeted him brightly, a grin on his lips. He glanced over to Hermione and nodded minutely. She gave a small nod back, before their attention was snatched by the professor. The blond continued gazing at him with suspicion. Harry really couldn't blame him. As the professor finished writing on the blackboard, the blond once again turned to him. "Why aren't you sitting next to Granger?" he questioned mildly, politely.

Harry nodded to himself. "Because I think you can help me."

All at once the blond tensed up and whatever facial features he possessed closed off, just like a book snapping shut, hiding the content within. Harry's face tightened, hurt at the lockdown he received for his words. "With Potions, I mean. If I want to be an Auror, I want to pass it on my own terms, and not because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm fairly certain I'll pass the other classes, but I'm not too sure about Potions. I've asked Hermione to help me, but I simply don't understand her way of Potion-making. And I know you're  _good_  at it. You can ask my help for a certain subject yourself. Or a certain thing you want to learn, in exchange."

The look he received now was calculating, measuring. The words were weighed and mulled over. Eventually a tight nod was his answer. "I can try to help you. I'll contact you when I've found the proper way for you to repay me. Professor Woodstill's potions room is open for those who want to brew after dinner. Just meet me here and maybe we'll figure out just why you're as bad at Potions as you are."

Harry nodded, face solemn. The mystery behind the disappearances during mealtime were finally recovered. He watched, fascinated as the slender hands and fingers moved rapidly on the parchment, writing down the ingredients and steps. And, once more, he wondered if he was correct, and what that would mean for him. Even thinking about it gave him a headache. Or maybe that would be the Veela part, telling him to hurry up and find his mate. Whichever way, it started to grate on his nerves, and he sincerely hoped he wasn't wrong about his mate. It would mean that focussing his attention on Draco Malfoy wasn't a waste of time. Because if it was… Harry swallowed, afraid to guess at the answer. It was bad enough knowing what could happen, but actually experiencing it… And all that for that one special person, for that person he had yet to find. Or had already found. He frowned and rubbed his temples, his headache causing his head to swim. It was all far too confusing, and everything started to blur together in one giant mess. And no matter how much Aunt Petunia had learned him how to scrub, he didn't know how to clean this up. Or how to stop it from escalating.

His eyes strayed to Hermione, who was already immersed with her potion, her brows furrowed together in subtle frustration. Or concentration. Harry simply never knew which one of the two it was. He wondered why she was so quick to help him. What with her helping Draco Malfoy. She, as all knew, had every reason to add insult to injury. Deciding to ask her later, he grasped the chopping board and the knife he was handed.

After a few reproachful looks, and a fair few disapproving ones, their potion was finished. "I'll see you after dinner, then," Harry said as they packed their bags to leave to classroom. A tight nod was his answer, before the blond head disappeared entirely. After a minute he spotted Hermione. "We have to talk."

She nodded. "When?"

Harry bit his lip, searching for a time and place in his head. "How about tonight in the Common Room? It's nothing serious, I just want to ask you something."

Her face was solemn as she nodded and agreed. "I'll speak to you then."

* * *

Harry was out of breath as he sprinted down the stairs, cursing as he did so. He was late. And at this point in time he thought it was actually a  _bad_  thing to be late. He just hoped Malfoy was still in the classroom. As he rounded the corner, he ran into someone. "I'm sorry!" He immediately said, steadying the person before him.

"Potter," came the mild reply.

Sighing in relief, Harry removed his hand from the blond's shoulder. "Malfoy. I'm sorry I'm late. There was something I had to do first."

An ugly sneer marred the otherwise beautiful face. "Oh yes, of course. I bet the Saviour of our world has lots to do. Meeting up with someone as low as me would surely harm your image of boy hero."

About to retort, Harry opened his mouth, before he shut it with a snap. There was something shining in Malfoy's eyes, something he hadn't encountered before. And within seconds he knew what it was. Insecurity. Grinning, Harry walked on, before he turned around and faced Malfoy, the same grin still lighting his face, making the ethereal glow even more pronounced, unbeknownst to Harry himself. For a second a curious expression entered the blond's face, before it was shut off. "I'd say it was the other way around. What on Earth could lower a Slytherin's standards to help a Gryffindor? But I didn't come here to chit-chat. For once in my life I want to try my hand in Potions, really try. And I thank you for helping me, because it means a lot to me. Shall we?"

The gobsmacked look was worthy of his patience, and a few seconds later the blond tentatively followed him back to the classroom.

"All right, Potter. Let's start with something easy, something even a first-year could make. Let's try a Forgetfulness Potion. We'll see where it goes wrong."

"So you won't help me?"

The blond sighed, and perched himself on a table near a cauldron with ingredients for the potion, all spread out. "I'll observe, and when I observe, I'll see where it goes wrong. That way, I can help you. If I help you now, we'll never get to the bottom of where it goes wrong, exactly. If you'd rather have someone help you, I suggest you leave, because I simply can't do that at the moment. Now, the steps are already written on the blackboard, so you can start now."

Harry looked dubiously at the board, but added the required drops of Lethe River Water to the cauldron. For twenty seconds he gently heated the clear substance. Looking over his shoulder at the blond, he only got the same façade everybody else got in broad daylight. Turning back, he added the two Valerian sprigs, while stirring clockwise for three times. Stepping back, he got a gentle nudge in his back.

"Your wand." Raising his eyebrows, Harry did as he was told, only now seeing his mishap. But yes, there it was written on the board, 'Wave wand over potion'. Turning the heat low, he stepped back and squinted at the board. 'Brew for forty-five to sixty minutes'. Perching on the table next to his potion, Harry looked at Draco. "Have you thought about what you wanted?"

A light frown drew the pale eyebrows down.

"About this, I mean. Have you thought about what you would like in return?" Harry hoped he would mention his situation with the other Slytherins, but it seemed it was not meant to be.

"No."

And that was that.

After a long, awkward silence, Harry repeated, "No? Not a subject you're slightly less adequate in?"

"No. Drop it, Potter."

"But—"

"Drop it, I said!" A light dusting of pink covered the otherwise pale cheeks, and even though the blond radiated defence, he lowered his gaze, and to the side, away from Harry.

The bespectacled teen just frowned. "I won't say anything, Malfoy, if you have something to say. I won't hold it against you, nor judge you. I only want to help, because what the other Slytherins do to you is simply not fair. It's immoral and isn't at all how it's supposed to be, no matter who you are or what you did. Your house is your family, and family doesn't abandon you just like that."

Malfoy's nostrils flares, but Harry didn't care. " _I_  don't care who you are or what you did, Malfoy. And even if I did, I would still offer my help. And not because I pity you, or feel sorry for you. Because I don't. But what the others are doing is  _wrong_. You paid for whatever misguided crime they think you've done. It isn't right to lock such a young person away. And no, it isn't because of whatever life-debt we still owe each other, no matter how ancient that magic may be. I'll do it because I don't want to see you hurt, because you've lost just as much as anyone. You've had to face horrors different than others, even different from me. You had Voldemort _living in your house_. How many people can say that without being completely barmy, or how many can say that while still being alive? And I will  _not_  stand for injustice, because it defeats the purpose of defeating Voldemort. It means nothing is accomplished, nothing is gained." He didn't tell Malfoy he knew perfectly well that the defeating of Voldemort certainly had a purpose, that lives were gained and the wizarding world was still standing, tall and proud.

For emphasises he grabbed Malfoy's left arm and yanked up the sleeve. The fading remains of the Dark Mark still marred the otherwise pale skin. His grasp was firm, even after the blond recovered from the shock and wanted to yank his arm back. "No. Malfoy, listen, because this is important. No matter what  _anyone_  says, this isn't disgusting, or fearsome. It's what you do with it. This is just a mark. It could stand for something good, if someone had wanted it. But that someone didn't. That someone made this very same mark look fearsome, evil, even. There were many who would wear it with pride, kill for it, to do its name justice. But it will fade, just like your mark is doing now. Maybe not in a year, hell, maybe not in twenty years, but it will fade. People will forget what it means, and will only learn from it in history books, where it is written down. Malfoy, just… just ask for help, if you need it. Don't be afraid, because there are people who don't care about this." The pad of his thumb trailed along the mark, before he released the arm.

"I don't care, Hermione doesn't care, and I'm sure others don't, either. You're the exception. And Ron, well, he just dislikes you because you're you. Old habits die hard."

Malfoy just looked on, still wearing that damned façade. "I think it's time to continue with the potion."

Harry shrugged, and leapt from the table. Malfoy may look like the bastard they knew him to be, but his eyes… They were begging,  _pleading_ , for something. But Harry wouldn't do all the work himself. Malfoy had to ask for it himself.

Turning back to his potion, Harry added four mistletoe berries to the mortar and started crushing it. He put two measures of the crushed berries to the cauldron, before crushing Standard Ingredient into the mortar. He added two measures of this to the cauldron, too. Stirring anti-clockwise for five times, and waving his wand, he looked into the bubbling mess.

"I hope you like to clean, Potter."

Before Harry could ask what Malfoy meant with that, he was covered in hot, slimy potion. "Fuck!" he yelled as he could feel the hot potion burning his skin. "Fuck! You bastard! Couldn't you have fucking warned me?! Do you know how hot this is?"

"Evanesco," came the cool and collected voice of the blond, vanishing the hot potion from Harry's body, leaving him red and achy.

His eyes practically screamed murder, but he managed to calm himself down by taking a deep breath. "Well, Malfoy? How did the  _observation_  go, then?"

"I think I know what the problem is with you and Potions."

Harry looked incredulous. "No-one has figured that out in seven years. And you just… you just know what's wrong by observing me one time?"

That deserved him an eye roll. "Not only one time. I've watched you brew several times before. But this time I've figured it out." Stepping away from the table, and being careful of the mess, he walked the few steps to Harry's table, where he was still standing, blistering.

"It's not your potion-making skills that need work. It's the organisational skills. You usually don't know where your ingredients lie. And that can be dangerous, as you just noticed. Besides, it's almost as if you're skimming the directions. Don't. Take your time to read it thoroughly. Maybe write them down yourself, so you can cross them off one by one. This year isn't about quantity, but quality." A pause, and then, "Potter, are you  _truly_ willing to do this? Because I'll need you here every other day. With no complaints, no excuses and no smart comebacks. Can you do that?"

Rising to the blatant competition, Harry nodded. "You bet I can."

* * *

As Draco lay back, he thought back on something. Something which might be very important. Or so part of his mind said. It wasn't about his classes, he knew that. So, what  _was_ it about?

He thought back on the moment he got dinner from the kitchens. Nothing unusual there. After that he went to the Potions classroom, where he wrote down the directions for the Forgetfulness Potion. And so he waited. And waited. It was a quarter past dinnertime, and still no Potter. Deciding the git had deceived him, he angrily gathered his bag. He fucking  _knew_  it. Absolutely nobody could be trusted. Not the Gryffindors, not the Ravenclaws, not even the Hufflepuffs. And the Slytherins, well, they made it plain on which end they stood. There were reasons he slept with enchantments on his curtains.

Turning the corner, he didn't see the black haired teen hurtling towards him, until it was too late. Stumbling, there was a very great chance he'd fall down, if a hand hadn't steadied his shoulder. "I'm sorry!" the person said immediately, and Draco had snorted. If it wasn't saint Potter him-bloody-self. "Potter," he had said mildly, tempering down his ire. And of course the fool had blustered an apology about being late. Of course he would.

And somehow that fed his ire even more, before he spat, "Oh yes, of course. I bet the Saviour of our world has lots to do. Meeting up with someone as low as me would surely harm your image of boy hero."

And that's where something odd happened, Draco realised with a yawn, cursing the Dreamless Sleep he had downed earlier. It was already making him drowsy. Potter hadn't raised to the bait. He didn't react to the taunt in the way Draco knew him to. Instead he had grinned nearly playfully. No, scratch that,  _definitely_  playfully, making his face different. His face! For a moment adrenaline coursed through his veins. There was something off about Potter's face. It had almost seemed to  _glow._  And faces normally didn't glow. Could someone have played a prank on Potter? No, surely they hadn't. Draco didn't know why, but the thought of glowing jogged a memory, even though he let his eyes drop and let sleep carry him away.  _Wings…_

The next morning, as Draco awoke, he remembered nothing of his midnight dwellings, as a night's sleep was bound to do to you.

* * *

"Hermione, do you have time to talk, now?" Harry asked after he returned to the common room after what he now dubbed 'the Potion's Incident'.

Hermione nodded, though her eyes still fixated themselves on the page of a book in her hands. "In a moment."

Not even half a minute later Hermione laid down her book, and looked up. And immediately gasped. "Harry, what happened to you? You have blisters all over!"

"Thanks, Hermione. I hadn't noticed yet," Harry said drily.

"Well, then, I shouldn't have to ask how the potions meeting went, should I?"

Harry grinned and settled down, even though the muscles he tightened made the blisters on his face hurt. "It actually didn't go as bad. The bastard just didn't warn me when the potion went wrong."

Hermione clucked her tongue. "You should see Madam Pomfrey. She'll have you fixed in no time. But you wished to ask me something?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Hermione, I'm truly sorry for asking this, but why, exactly, do you wish to help Draco Malfoy? The entire school knows that you of all has the most reason to see him hurt. Why won't you let it go?"

Hermione smiled, even though it hurt her a bit, to know her friend questioned her resolve to help someone as Draco Malfoy. But given the circumstances of who Harry's mate might be, she let it slide. "The same as you, mostly. The only thing I can blame him for is calling me names. I think we're all way past petty name-calling. He was a child, Harry. We all were. I can't blame him anymore than I can blame a random student of this school. He was born into the wrong family, was taught the wrong thing and made bad choices. But if he was all bad, or evil, even, then we wouldn't be standing here, now would we? He tried to stall for time when we were brought in. If he'd just confirmed it was us, Voldemort would be summoned in a matter of seconds. I think that weighs higher than petty insults. If he wasn't there that day, who knows what would've happened? I owe him my life, in a way. Just as much as he owes his to us."

Harry leaned back and covered his face with his hands, grimacing at the pain. "Thanks, Hermione. I just… I think I need some sleep."

Hermione nodded, and waved him off. "Go, then. But don't forget to go to Pomfrey tomorrow!"

Harry nodded, and walked up the stairs. It was early, but he was dead tired.

As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were empty. And somehow that scared him more than the nightmare he had seen the night before.


End file.
